


somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known

by besidemethewholedamntime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alya comes into the world, Canon Compliant, Childbirth but nothing graphic don't worry, Comfort, F/M, Love, Set during those four years in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/besidemethewholedamntime/pseuds/besidemethewholedamntime
Summary: "While she has no doubt that if someone in their team had given birth during all these years then she would have been the one drafted in to help, at least there would have been others and there would have been the internet. There would have been options. As it stands now there is just her, a chronicom and an engineer, and it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke that maybe she would laugh at in a different situation."The story of how Alya Fitzsimmons comes into the world.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 32
Kudos: 82





	somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known

**Author's Note:**

> hello! Thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this - I hope it's somehow what you were hoping for. I'm so sorry it took so long!
> 
> It does have childbirth in it but I didn't go into detail really so there's nothing graphic in here, don't worry! I also apologise in advance if this is completely inaccurate. I did try to do research (I watched the Netflix programme 'Babies', which was mostly just because babies are so adorable) but if it's wrong please feel free to let me know and I'll change it!
> 
> Title is from Carl Sagan. 
> 
> I hope you like it!

Fitz is pacing back and forth so furiously that if they had a carpet, Jemma’s almost sure he would have worn a hole in it by now. It’s become a pattern: four steps this way, a sharp spin on his heel, and then four steps that way. His footsteps are steady, predictable, and the sound is soothing in a way, enough to lull her if she was capable of being lulled at all.

He thinks she’s resting for a moment, that’s the only reason why he’s doing it. If she were to open her eyes then he would be by her side in a flash, arms around her shoulders, fingers tangled with her own. It’s comforting but also terrifying, because the tighter he holds her then the more afraid he is, and in this situation where he knows more than her, where there are facts he is not sharing, just how afraid he might be is not something Jemma wants to know. So she keeps her eyes closed for just now, giving herself a brief respite as well as Fitz.

It’s been so long now. So long now that she can’t remember how long. The pain is never-ending, it seems, the pressure so unbearable that it takes all she has to grit her teeth and not to shout out loud. They don’t have much in the way of medicine here, and what they’ve been able to procure and, or indeed make themselves, has been earmarked for emergency use only. She hesitates to acknowledge that this is one, scared of what will happen once she does, scared of what will happen if she doesn’t.

Sweaty and dazed she opens her eyes. Fitz’s back is to her, but she can tell immediately from the way his shoulders are tensed and his hand is running through his hair that his pacing is not working and that he is still just as terrified, if not more. She goes to tell him that she’s fine, even if it’s not true in the slightest, but all of a sudden there’s a contraction, a sensation that takes her breath away, and instead of words all that comes out is a horrible groan that she couldn’t suppress even if she tried.

Fitz spins around faster than she would have thought possible. “Hey,” he says softly, his face pressed close to hers in the second it takes Jemma to blink. He strokes her head gently, pushing back damp tendrils of hair that have become matted to her forehead. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.” His voice is low. “You’re going to be fine.”

It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like someone is digging a hot knife into her lower back, skirting around vertebrae and merrily twisting her spinal cord. It feels like nothing is quite real, that if she were to reach out and touch Fitz he would dissolve into the air as though he had never been here. It feels like nothing she’s ever felt before or cares to feel again.

“I had a plan,” she manages to whimper. It’s only Fitz and Enoch in here and she’s too sore and exhausted to pretend otherwise. Pride went out of the window just over seventeen hours ago. “Why aren’t we following the plan?”

“I know you had a plan,” he soothes, trying to give a reassuring smile but it doesn’t work. His eyes are too blue, too watery, and for a moment it’s not the Fitz of now but a Fitz of the past who was handing her the last of the oxygen and telling her that it would be okay. For a moment the pressure lessens and the pain is forgotten as she stares at a boy she wishes she didn’t remember.

Just then there’s another contraction and she twists as though she can escape it. “I had several plans,” she clarifies. “In the folder.”

The folder that she’s spent weeks compiling as Fitz essentially doomed her to bed rest. The folder that was colour co-ordinated; each plan given a colour denoting preference to be followed. The folder that she showed Fitz each night before they went to bed, schooling him on all the finer details in case, like now, she was unable to follow it herself.

“I know you did,” he says, and his hand doesn’t stop its gentle ministrations in her hair. “We’ve just gone a bit too far for them now.”

To not even be able to follow the red-labelled plan strikes a note of fear in her heart, and she feels her breathing quicken even as she desperately tries to get it under control. “What do you mean we’re too far gone?” Her voice climbs higher in hysteria. “How can we be too far gone?”

Enoch walks up beside her, standing behind Fitz’s shoulder. She’d forgotten he was in here, forgotten how instrumental he’d been in the assembly of her plans. Their chronicom has lived quite a life, it seems, and his knowledge of childbirth had been eerily intimate and far outstripped their own. When it had first properly sunk in that it would only be the three of them during the birth she had been dismayed and more than a little anxious. Fitz was hardly known for his strong stomach and Enoch was hardly known for his excellent decision-making, and Jemma had certainly never had much to do with the whole process in her life and career as a _biochemist._ While she has no doubt that if someone in their team had given birth during all these years then she would have been the one drafted in to help, at least there would have been others and there would have been the internet. There would have been _options._ As it stands now there is just her, a chronicom and an engineer, and it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke that maybe she would laugh at in a different situation.

Enoch tilts his head, as though he doesn’t understand her hysteria. “What Leopold Fitz means is that there was nothing in your plans that indicated what should be done if the process lasted this long. Therefore, anything that you have written is meaningless now.”

Jemma likes Enoch, she truly does, but right now she has an urge to tell him to shut up. He helped her design the plans after all, so it’s not as though the blame lies squarely on her. Not that there’s blame at all. Babies are unpredictable. Even without any research she knows that.

Fitz twists over his shoulder to look at Enoch, and Jemma can only imagine the look on his face. “Could you maybe just give us a minute, yeah?”

Enoch looks between the two of them and nods. “Very well. I will be reviewing the latest blood test if anyone should require me.”

He disappears out of her line of sight and she feels a little bit sorry. It’s not his fault that nothing has gone the way it should have. Jemma wonders if she’s turning into Fitz because right now she feels a lot of disdain for the cosmos. Maybe she wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re cursed, but it feels like there’s definitely something out there that has it in for her.

“You’re going to be fine,” Fitz tells her. A damp cloth has appeared in his hand, and he gently bathes her forehead. It feels deliciously cool and momentarily eases a pressure behind her eyes that she wasn’t aware was there. “I know you are.”

His teary eyes and thick voice aren’t fooling either of them with regards to his confidence, but she loves him very much for trying. She can see how he would dearly love to panic, to crumble in on himself and succumb to the fear that she’s sure is eating away at him, and she can see the very visible effort that’s going into doing everything _but_ that. The way he’s doing his best to be strong and confident and sure at a time when she’s not very sure of anything at all… well, it means the one thing she is sure of is him.

They haven’t had much. There’s been no ultrasound or 3D scan – the closest they have had is a heart monitor that Jemma would play like music every time they felt anxious. There’s been no classes or workshops – the only thing they have learned from is a book Enoch found for them from his travels. There has been no browsing in the shops and cooing over the delightfully small baby items - everything has either been found by Enoch or made by themselves after pricking many a finger on a sewing needle, or accidentally unravelling whole balls of wool.

They haven’t had much but they have always had each other, and she thinks there’s a lot to be said for that.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she says tightly now, as her back arches without her permission. “It was supposed to be easier.”

The corner of Fitz’s mouth quirks up. “Since when has anything easy ever been our style?”

“Just once-” She breaks off as another contraction washes over her and she grabs for Fitz’s hand, something, anything to take a little bit of pressure from her. He murmurs unintelligible things in her ear until it passes and, quite breathless, she finishes, “Just once it would be nice if something was.”

Fitz hums his agreement and she’s trying to relax into his touch when all of a sudden there is a searing pain that comes from everywhere and nowhere at once and she gasps, all the air in her body stolen. Fitz’s half-smile vanishes instantly, and when he says her name his voice is not just anxious but composed of pure and utter panic.

“Fitz, I think you should look at this,” Enoch says, appearing suddenly again, his voice eerily calm.

“Really?” Fitz whips around. “Right now?”

“Yes. I believe it is of the utmost importance.”

And just then the look on Fitz’s face morphs from panic to terror, and Jemma feels her heart rate skyrocket, which is betrayed by the heart rate monitor she’s only just realised is attached to her. Fitz looks torn between her and Enoch, but whatever is of the utmost importance wins out.

“I’ll be right back,” he furiously promises, before tearing away with Enoch, leaving Jemma to try and think of calming things like cuttlefish and stars but it’s all futile. Already there’s a haze creeping in at the edges of her vision, a confusion settling over her like a fog. Things that she thought she knew begin to slide away from her, and she doesn’t have the energy to try and bring them back.

There’s a story in her head about the creation of the universe. The whole universe as they know it, every speck of dust and shaft of light borne from a place a smaller than an atom. Once there was nothing, and then there was a bang, an explosion that ripped things apart and brought them together and quite suddenly there was a universe that would hold everything.

Her father used to tell her stories like this. It’s been such a long time since she’s seen him, and her mother too. Such a long time since she’s even spoken to them. It’s been many years since her father has bandaged her knees or her mother has dried her tears but in this moment she wants them to do exactly that, to press their cool hands to her hot head and say _shh, it’s alright, darling. We’ve got you now._

Fitz comes back and she grabs for him, wondering a moment too late if she’s grabbed too hard. “What is it?” She asks, breathless. “What’s that look on your face?”

“Nothing,” he tells her, but the way he bites his lip and the look in his eyes means that she doesn’t believe him at all. “It’s all going to be fine.”

Frustrated, she slams her hand down on the bed as another contraction hits home. “I hate this,” she grinds out. “It feels like I’m dying.”

It’s a throwaway comment, something that she doesn’t think about saying before she does, but she immediately regrets it. Fitz looks stricken, and she reaches out towards him to say no, she didn’t mean it, but before she can Enoch is at his side, looking down at her on the bed with what she thinks might be his attempt at a vaguely comforting expression.

“Do not worry,” he tells her. “You will probably not die.”

Fitz’s eyes widen and he presses his hands together in front of his mouth, biting his lip in what Jemma thinks is an effort not to shout. “Thanks for that, Enoch,” he says, voice tight. “But we weren’t even entertaining that possibility.”

Enoch looks unbothered, ignoring Fitz’s body language that is just begging for him to stop. “All I am saying is that in this day and age, with this equipment, chances of survival are-”

“Oi! Enough.” Fitz cuts Enoch off, pointing to Jemma’s heart monitor, which beeps furiously. “You’re freaking her out and you’re freaking me out so just knock it off.”

Enoch looks mildly abashed. “I apologise, I did not mean to scare either of you. My facts were an attempt to be comforting. I will go and prepare some things for the arrival.”

Fitz runs his hand through his hair as Enoch leaves, sinking down on his knees next to Jemma.

“Fitz,” she admonishes gently. “There was no need for that.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” he blows out a breath. “Wasn’t exactly helpful that, was it?”

No, she supposes it wasn’t, but there are bigger things to worry about now. They’ll apologise to Enoch later, let him regale them with as many tales as he wants. She finds Fitz’s hand again. “If he’s preparing things then does it mean we’re almost there?”

Fitz nods, hand cupping her face. “It does.”

And suddenly she’s afraid, much more afraid than she’s ever been in her whole life. “Oh, Fitz,” she whimpers, feeling so very small. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” he soothes, smoothing her hair away again. He sounds quite like a boy she used to know when he says, “You have to do this.”

A little half-sob escapes when she gasps, “I can’t. It’s too hard.”

“And when has that ever stopped you, hm?” He gives her a soft, tearful smile. “You can do this because you have to do this. And you have always been able to do what you have to, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s impossible. You’re strong that way.”

“I’m not, Fitz. I’m not,” she sobs because right now she doesn’t feel strong at all.

“You are,” he says, and there’s a change in his tone, something firm that tells her she won’t be getting away with it, though what it is, she doesn’t know. “You are the strongest person I’ve ever met, Jemma Simmons, and you only get stronger. I’ve got you. Just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little bit and then it’ll all be over. Everything will be worth it then.” He squeezes her hand gently. “I promise.”

There’s a part of her that thinks nothing is worth this pain and fear sits on her chest like a weight, but Fitz is right: she’s not about to be beaten by it. She’s never been beaten by anything and she’s not about to start now. They’re about to be a _family._ It’s the next part of their adventure, and it’s right here. It’s all about to begin.

“Alright,” she sniffs, resolve hardening. “Let’s do this.”

“There you are,” he beams, and the soft pride in his voice makes her want to cry.

Enoch appears at the bottom of the bed, comically dressed in what she thinks might be an attempt at scrubs. Biting her lip to stop herself from laughing, she turns to Fitz and whispers, “I didn’t realise he wanted to _literally_ deliver the baby.”

Fitz looks almost horrified, and gasps a strangulated, “Neither did I.”

“Well,” she says, because this might as well happen, “at least this way you can stay up here with me.”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, still staring at Enoch, and then he turns to her as if realising what she’s just said. “Yeah, exactly. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The next moments are foggy and full of pain and all that she’s cognizant of is Enoch calmly dishing out instructions and Fitz holding her hand, smoothing back her hair, promising her the whole of the world if she just gets through these next few minutes.

It’s messy and it _hurts_ and she can’t tell if it’s tears or sweat in her eyes but Fitz is right: she’s Jemma Simmons and she can do anything she bloody well puts her mind to. And so she listens to Enoch’s instructions because she’s always been an excellent rule follower, and she lets Fitz whispers soothing things in her ear because only for him would she go through this.

At one point Enoch tells her that in only two pushes their baby will be born and, trying hard not to think too long about how exactly he knows this information, she flops backwards onto the pillow. Fitz’s cheek presses against hers and he whispers, “Almost there now.”

They almost have a _baby._ On a _Zephyr._ In a _star system._ “Oh, Fitz,” she half moans half chuckles. “What were we thinking? We’re _insane._ ”

He laughs wetly, tears in his eyes. “We are. Absolutely bloody mental.”

The look on his face she could almost kiss if there wasn’t more important work to be done. Another wave, another push and soon Enoch is looking up at both of them once again and saying, “Fitz, if you would not mind…”

Fitz gulps, suddenly looking very afraid for his own sake. “I, uh-”

“Go,” Jemma urges. Fitz still looks doubtful, and whether he realises it or not he starts to grip her hand very tightly rather than the other way around.

“Go,” she says again, and then smiles, completely exhausted. “The first thing our baby sees, it should be you.”

And the look he gives her seems to be much longer than the glance she knows it is. A look that betrays his fear and yet his utter disbelief that this is happening. He squeezes her hand once, a reassurance that she can do this, they’re almost there now, and then he goes. She grits her teeth and does what she has to and all of a sudden, so suddenly she can’t believe it took over seventeen hours to get to this point, it’s over. The pressure that had been assaulting her, the knife twisting in her back, it’s all gone and there’s a very empty, long moment that seems to stretch into the infinite…

And then her baby cries and her eyes, which she had screwed shut, open wide and she looks down at Fitz who’s looking at their child with a complexly bewildered expression on his face.

“A girl,” he breathes, soft wonderment in his voice. He looks up at her. “Jemma… we have a daughter.”

 _A daughter._ She doesn’t even have time to process the words before there’s a baby, wrapped in a soft towel, placed on her chest and her arms instinctively curl around them. _Her._

“I know,” she whispers as their daughter wails loudly, protesting at her entrance into the world. Jemma gently cradles her, not knowing how or why she thinks this is what should be done, just knowing that it feels right. “Oh, I know. You must have gotten quite a fright. It’s alright. It’s over now.”

She looks around for Fitz, who’s looking down at them with an expression she can’t quite name. “Fitz, we have a _baby_ ,” she says, almost in disbelief.

He swallows. “We do.” Then he presses the softest kiss to the side of her face. “I am so proud of you.”

She smiles up at him but can’t say anything -what is there that could possibly be said? – and instead looks back down at their daughter. _What could be worth this pain,_ she had thought only moments ago, and realises _oh, you are. You’re worth everything I’ve ever done at all._

 _Insane and bloody mental_ , that’s what they’d agreed on minutes (or is it years? It feels so very far in the past now, completely irrelevant to the present) ago and yes, she supposes it is. And, she also supposes, it makes complete sense. A love like theirs deserves to have something as magical as this.

Their daughter has stopped crying now, looking around at the new view of the world she lives in. Jemma thinks she’s never loved someone this entirely before, it's as though her heart now has a face. One look at Fitz and she knows he's feeling the exact same way.

There’s the story in her head again about the creation of the universe, about there was nothing and then, in a moment, there was everything. This is how it begins for her. Once there was nothing except a hope, a wish, a daydream of the future that always seemed to get more unlikely as time went on. An empty space in her arms filled with nothing but air and promises, infinite futures that seemed to fall through her hands like rain, melt on her fingertips like snow.

Once, in that space where there was nothing, there was suddenly something, and in an instant that something has become _everything._ Once upon a time she asked Fitz if they would find something magnificent out in space and oh, how they have. Their daughter. The most magnificent thing of all.

She has the wonders of the entire universe in her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading - I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave kudos/comments. Please feel free not to. Either way, I hope you have a lovely day and are managing to stay safe and well <3


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